Art & Writing

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[partim] Scott the Alchemist 4.

I held on to Toby as we went back up to my room. I was so excited to see him, I’d forgotten the state I’d left my room in till he’d pushed the door open and stopped short.

The room was still covered in my cum.

Of course by “covered” I don’t mean the occasional stain visible. It wasn’t but fifteen minutes ago that I’d let loose in here with a dick three feet long and an orgasm to match: the walls were dripping, my bed was soaked through, and the floor was covered in a half-inch puddle—pool, really—of musky whiteness. It smelled amazing.

I was glad the place was protected from fluid damage.

Toby was still taking the scene in. Not something humans are used to seeing, I guess—one of the things I love about them—that look in their faces when you can see their imaginations take flight at seeing something new.

He turned to me, reaching down to pick up my flaccid shaft about a foot of the way down its length, hefting it upwards.

“All that… from this hose, eh?”

His hands moved up my length till he was holding my massive cockhead, which was about as big as his whole head. He stared into the gaping slit—that just a few minutes earlier had a whole person forced out through it—and pressed his face into it, licking it out deep.